Iceblood
by Connet
Summary: Life, death, and undeath, Sabelle Deathwish has seen and done it all. After freeing herself from the Lich King's hold, she travels to Northrend on a quest to get revenge on the Lich King. Surprisingly, she is paired up with a night elf for the trip, uncovering emotions and secrets she was never meant to know about.
1. Acherus

**Author's Note:**

**This is set a day before the attack on Light's Hope Chapel, so I can drawlll out the situation and everything.  
I absolutely love the word 'drawl'. It's formal and classy x3**

**Acherus is going to be bigger. With rooms.**

***edit*  
I am editing this chapter, lengthening out a few things... yannkow, making it a smidget more decent than it is.**

* * *

**Chapter 1  
Acherus**

_Rise, my champion._

Sabelle's eyes fluttered open as the remnants of that haunting voice left her consciousness, leaving her to stare up at the chandelier. The candles were a waxy white, with an icy blue flame lighting the small room. With a sigh, she pushed aside the pale blue blankets and got to her feet. The room she slept in had a bed with a trunk at the foot of it, an armoire that held her armor and runeblade, and a worn-out cobalt blue rug.

When she'd gone done to Havenshire, as the humans had called it, she and a few other death knights had been told to check-out-and-loot the houses for anything that could be used to further the attack. Sabelle had found a mirror, simply made, and decided to keep it. It now lay in the trunk at the foot of the bed, waiting to be picked up.

Sabelle knelt beside the trunk, un-latching it and pushing back the lid. She picked up the mirror and surveyed herself in it, combing her fingers through her hair and picking up the hairbrush. Unlike the mirror, which had been taken from a house, the trunk had been packed with various things that Sabelle guessed the living women liked - a hairbrush, hair-ties, bottles of scents, fabrics, and jewelry.

She had little use for the fabrics, but decided to keep them anyways - the fabrics were brightly colored, and they made the room seem lively. The bottles of scents and jewelry were useful when she had to disguise her scent and herself among the living. The hairbrush, however, was kept because she couldn't stand feeling her hair knotted and icky.

Sabelle ran her fingers through her silvery-white hair a few times before brushing it out and pulling it into a ponytail. She placed the mirror and hairbrush back into the trunk, re-latched it, and stood up.

_Be swift, my champion. We must strike, swiftly and quickly, before they are able to create a defense._

The Lich King's voice echoed in her head, more vividly than she could remember, and she felt something clawing at her consciousness. Sabelle frowned, pushed it away, and stepped over to the armoire, pulling out the plate armor and placing it on the bed. She strapped and buckled it on before pulling on her hood. Underneath her hood was a thin layer of plate, which prevented major damage to be done to her head. It also caused people to believe the undead had heads of stone - Sabelle had almost laughed when she'd heard the humans talking about it.

She pulled her runeblade, Iceblood, out of the armoire and strapped it to her belt, sighing. It was inscribed with runes in Darnassian, Thalassian, and Elven. Nazja was a petty language, derived out of Thalassian and Darnassian. Anybody who knew the two languages fairly well could speak Nazja.

She strapped it to her belt and walked out of the room, emerging into the absolute top-level of Acherus. It was where the rooms were, and where the Lich King's favored death knights slept. Including herself, a few other death knights emerged from their rooms. They all wore the same armor; black, very dark grey, and silver. It signaled their high rank, where the common death knight had simple grey armor that looked black.

Strands of white hair fell into her eyes, and Sabelle was unsurprised to feel a small amount of necromantic magic controlling it. Shifting her gaze to Verayn, the necromancess who the Lich King favored above all the others, she said, "Hoping to reanimate my hair, are you?"

The human shrugged. "It doesn't hurt to explore my options, does it?" she said, daintily falling into stride besides Sabelle.

Verayn reached her shoulder, with black hair that had a blue sheen to it. Her skin was pale, but not white, just somewhere between. Today, she wore the set of black and purple robes that necromancers were famous for on the battlefield. They were lined and reinforced with plate, chainmail, and leather. Sabelle was hardly surprised that Verayn managed to stay upright without tipping over.

Stifling a yawn, more of boredom than of lack of sleep, she snapped her gaze to Verayn. "I suppose not," Sabelle said bluntly, already striding towards the teleporter. After a moment, Sabelle felt the necromantic energy ebb away, leaving the few strands of her hair to fall into her face. Hissing, she tucked them into her hood.

* * *

Verayn pushed strands of black-blue hair from her face, silently wishing she'd remembered to ask Sabelle to fix her hair. She was going to be knee-deep in guts, gore, dead bodies, and blood; why wouldn't she want to keep her hair clean?

"S-abelle!" She mentally cursed herself for stuttering, but all Sabelle did was stare at Verayn from the depths of her hood. She could practically feel Sabelle raising an eyebrow. "Don't get yourself killed, alright? I need somebody here who at least understands the basics of girl-talk!"

Verayn heard Sabelle cluck her tongue, and that haunting voice floated out to Verayn, saying, "It'll be the other death knights you want to worry about, Verayn." A pause. Verayn practically bounced on her toes, waiting for the death knight to say something. "I actually feel bad that they'll have to be put back together after the Argent Dawn's done with them."

The necromancess blinked, narrowing her eyes.

Unsurprisingly, Sabelle's hand merely went to rest on her hip and her chin lifted. "Verayn, I'm not going to get my ass kicked by the Living. And stop narrowing you Sunwell-damned eyes at me. They're red, and you may as well specialize in being a Blood death knight."

"Don't die!"

"Stay sane!" came Sabelle's sarcastic yell. One again, Verayn could feel Sabelle smiling; either sarcastically or ghoulishly, Verayn felt the two would suit Sabelle enough to tell everybody to stay away from her.

Why _was_ Sabelle so sarcastic? Maybe it was because she was a death knight. Verayn sniffed, darting back into her room to try and fix her hair one last time. If she couldn't get it into a bun, she'd wear it down and beg the Lich King for a bath if she had to. She already smelled like last week's dead bodies. A bath wouldn't work against her in any way, right?

Softly closing the door shut, she surveyed her room. There was a work table in the corner, slightly secluded from the rest of her workshop. Bookcases lined the walls, only breaking apart for her bed and armoire. They were filled with the dusty books, tomes, and scrolls that she'd managed to smuggle from libraries across the world, stuffing them into the vacant bookcases. Either for decoration or for knowledge, Verayn couldn't decide.

Her armoire had a built-in mirror, something she appreciated greatly, and a small box in the corner that held all the things necessary for staying as clean as undeadly possible. Dragging a chair away from the work table, Verayn pulled open the tiny doors to the armoire with her other hand and seated herself in front of the mirror.

On impulse, Verayn crinkled her nose, undoing her bun and allowing her thick curls to drop themselves onto her shoulders. After combing her fingers through them a few thousand times, Verayn finally managed to pull her hair into a better bun than before.

"At least now Rasuvious can't yell at me for complaining." Her eyes widened. "Sh-it! He'll have something to yell at me for now! Did I even word that right? Who cares!"

* * *

The icy, overdramatically ghoulish smile that'd been on Sabelle's face vanished as she daintily took the black leather reins from Koltira. Why couldn't he let her get her own damn deathcharger? She didn't care if they were being nice. _Death knights weren't nice._

Or, at least, _she_ wasn't.

Sniffing, Sabelle hoisted herself into the saddle. Koltira, seeming satisfied that she could do it herself, led his deathcharger away. She fought a sneer of annoyance as she drummed her fingers against the hilt of her runeblade. Sabelle wanted to hurl it across the room as it hummed with bloodlust, but refrained from doing that.

Snapping her attention to her surroundings, Sabelle willed herself not to just go and beat the living crap out of every Living being she came across. Or maybe it was her runeblade whispering to her? She didn't know, or care, for that matter. All that she cared about what that she beat the crap out of somebody before she went crazy.

_You _are_ crazy, my haunting, deadly weapon._

Immediately, her hand gripped her runeblade, Iceblood, and her legs gripped the saddle. She wanted to throw her runeblade into a corner and forget about it. She could always get a new runeblade, rename it, and forget Iceblood ever existed. It was possible, highly possible she could.

Once again, Sabelle forced herself to focus on her surroundings. She was on the lowest level of Acherus, at the very back of the herd of death knights. She didn't like being crowded, although the other death knights didn't seem to mind being crowded by each other. She did, and kept herself away.

_To Light's Hope Chapel, my soldiers._

Sabelle sniffed absently, urging Ernestine into a gallop and past everybody. They probably didn't hear the Lich King's voice as often as she did, so she took the initiative - for once in her miserable undead life, she may as well do it instead of following like a mindless ghoul. She was not mindless.

_I know you aren't, Deathwish. That's why you're my champion, first and foremost._

* * *

**I CAN'T WRITE ANYTHING LONGER THAN BARELY OVER 1,000 WORDS. It's so infuriating, I want to /rage**

***edit***

**I MADE IT LONGERRRRRR!**

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Blizzard, World of Warcraft, or any of the NPCs used in this story. I own Sabelle, Verayn, and Ernestine.**


	2. Minutes

**Author's Note:**

**I feel like I'm going to be able to actually FINISH THIS STORY. I feel so happy.**

**Thank y'all for y'all's reviews. It makes me happy x3**

**...well... Happier.**

***edit*  
I EDITED IT. Rereading it, now, makes me feel like it's so mindless. So. *facepalm***

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**Chapter 2  
Minutes**

Ernestine landed with a heavy thud, causing Highlord Darion Mograine to look back at Sabelle. His eyes shifted from her to the small army of death knights that'd followed her, along with Koltira. He shifted his gaze back to her, icily.

After a minute of icy staring, he said, "You're here, Deathwish." Sabelle could feel herself wrenching in hatred at the name. "We are in need of your... ah, _particular talents_."

"Pleasantries are exchanged officially now, I suppose," she murmured dully, extending out her arms and dusting off the thick dust that she'd been covered with. It was released from the mushrooms that littered the Plaguelands and floated in the air, like dust. And annoying dust, like the plague. She crinkled her nose. "When do we attack?"

"In five minutes. We shall watch the Argent Dawn attempt to arrange their forces in that given time, then attack." The highlord paused, studying her for a moment as Ernestine sidled up beside his own deathcharger. "The monstrosities will attack first, demolishing their largest form of defense. Then the abominations, and lastly, the ghouls."

Sabelle nodded. "Then, I suppose, we attack."

At the highlord's head-jerk, which she guessed was a nod, her eyes shifted to the front as rain began to pour from the sky. Sabelle sighed and fingered the hilt of Iceblood, silently thankful for the waterproof armor and Ernestine's waterproof saddle, bridle, and reins. In simple, she was thankful for waterproof everything.

Silently counting down the minutes, she allowed herself to activate her unholy and frost runes. They were embedded in her belt, an interesting thing that made her want to take it off and examine it for an hour or longer.

As she activated them, the ground beneath her feet took on the pale, placid look of frost covering the tainted, unholy ground. Coincidentally, she was specialized as an unholy death knight. She clucked her tongue, drawing confused looks towards her direction. She had a good reason for it, too.

Four minutes, one minute had passed.

With her unholy runes activated, she could feel the lines of necromantic energy coursing through the ground. They were like ley lines, excep more common in the Plaguelands, or plagued areas. With that thought, Sabelle connected herself to a line of necromantic energy, allowing her soul (or what was left of it) to follow it towards Light's Hope Chapel.

She felt herself repelled by the holy energies that came from the chapel, and all the people surrounding it. Gripping Ernestine's black leather reins, Sabelle murmured, "Paladins - and priests. They've cleansed the entire area surrounding the chapel."

She could feel the anger and burning hatred radiating from the highlord. "This will be hard," he stated, as if it weren't obvious. _Idiot_, Sabelle silently chided. Turning in his saddle, he called, "Necromancers, increase the necromantic energy surrounding the monstrosities, abominations, and ghouls!" Yes, as if that would help. It'd only replenish the lines of necromantic energy, and thus, leading to their double-doom.

The necromancers rushed to do his bidding, and Sabelle felt a surge of energy - necromantic energy. She pursed her lips and silently worked with depleting the lines of necromantic energy. The paladins and priests would be overwhelmed by the surge, and possibly pass out from the mass of it, but they'd tell the others of what the necromancers were doing before they faded into oblivion.

If even a single line reached a paladin or priest, they would be committing their own double-suicide. Sabelle hissed at the foolishness of the necromancers. _Didn't they care whether or not the made it out of this undead? _Sabelle certainly did, and she wasn't about to let one little line of necromantic energy end it.

"Soldiers of the Scourge, stand ready!" the highlord yelled. "Prepare to unleash your fury upon the Argent Dawn!"

Three minutes, one minute had passed.

Sabelle's toes curled as she redirected all the necromantic energy towards herself, sealing it inside her unholy runes. Koltira, Thassarion, Orbaz, and the highlord all whipped their heads around to stare at her, icily, as if they felt the surge of necromantic energy - all of it being directed at _her_.

She couldn't help but grin.

Her attention was directed towards her ironic anger at how slowly time passed, as if each second were a minute and each minute were an hour. She sighed and drew herself up, sniffing the air. Her senses were, surprisingly, sharper when she activated her runes. With her unholy runes activated, she could smell the musty scent of decay and the dust that was released into the air by mushrooms.

Abruptly, the highlord yelled, "The sky weeps at the glorious devastation of these lands!" Sabelle twitched. "Soon, Azeroth's futile tears will rain down upon us!" Iceblood hummed with contempt.

Two minutes, one minute had passed.

Sabelle grinned maniacally, gripping the hilt of Iceblood with a gloved hand. A distinct yell directed her eyes forward, away from the plagued ground, and up to the shroud of trees, where a small army of the living were running towards them.

Her grin only increased as she reactivated her frost runes and thrust ice chains deep under the ground and up to the living. The blinding-white chains wrapped themselves around the living's ankles, creeping up their legs and yanking them to the ground.

"What are you _doing_, Deathwish?" Orbaz hissed at her, from around Koltira.

She gave him a lazy, maniacal grin. "I'm taking them to us, _Orbaz_." Sabelle raised her hand, beckoning the chains to come closer. Slowly, the ice chains moved through the earth, to the astonishment of many of her death knight companions, and towards Sabelle.

With a flick of her hand, the living were dragged behind them and then towards the necromancers, who worked quickly as Sabelle drew the ice chains into the ground. She sighed through her nose as her frost runes deactivated themselves, leaving her to feel vulnerable.

The feeling was quickly replaced with power as the necromancers uncaringly surged power throughout the Scourge forces that stood there. Once again, Sabelle worked to cut off the surge from going further than it should, drawing the extra necromantic energy into her unholy runes.

She had nine runes in total, three blood runes, three unholy runes, and three frost runes. They were embedded in her belt, spaced evenly and flaring color when activated. It was the reason why a death knight's corpse had the belt stripped away, so the living couldn't take it and study it.

_Pfft. As if they even knew about the runes anyways._

Sabelle involuntarily flinched at the Lich King's voice echoing in her head, the harsh coldness echoing in her head.

_The battle for Light's Hope Chapel has begun._

She knew that each and every Scourge there had heard the Lich King's voice, and she couldn't help but hide her grin beneath the depths of her hood as Highlord Darion Mograine yelled, "Death knights of Acherus, the death march begins!" He paused, willing for the dramatic effect to set in. "Soldiers of the Scourge, death knights of Acherus, minions of darkness..." He trailed off, casting a look at Sabelle.

She sighed and yelled, "Hear the call of the Deathwisher and the highlord!" Raising her hand, Sabelle drew out the necromantic energies she'd collected within the past four minutes and released them. The necromantic energies gripped the dead within the ground, reanimating them. "_Rise_!"

One by one, newly-animated ghouls clawed their way up, from the ground and stood in the ranks of the Scourge. Sabelle smiled grimly, yelling, "The skies turn red with the blood of the fallen! The Lich King watches over us, minions!"

Highlord Darion Mograine's hands practically trembled in anxiety; it was plain as day, and Sabelle could see it. "Leave only ashes and misery in your destructive wake!" he yelled; fiercely, Sabelle dully added. "Onward, monstrosities!"

The gigantic heaps of flesh, leather, and gore stumbled forward, making the ground shake. Sabelle straightened, leaning back in the saddle. Ernestine jerked upwards, only off the ground by two inches. A distance away, at Light's Hope Chapel, she heard cannon fire and yelling in Common and Orcish.

_Good, let them stare in horror at the Scourge war machine._

"Abominations, ghouls, forward!"

Sabelle crinkled her nose in a mixture of disgust, impatience, and confusion. Was that the order the Highlord had said they'd go in? She didn't remember, and she didn't care. Sunwell, she just wanted to go.

As if hearing her thoughts, Highlord Darion Mograine yelled, "Onward, death knights! We will make the Argent Dawn beg for mercy! We will show no mercy!"

Grinning ghoulishly, Sabelle dug her heels into Ernestine's side.

* * *

**Sooo. I wrote this in the same day as I wrote chapter 1.  
I thought I'd be waiting for the PTR to come back up, as that is where Sabelle lives, but instead I dragged my butt over to Wowwiki and looked up the quest that had this dialogue. **

***edit***

**I didn't edit this chapter as much as I thought I would, only making a few adjustments and adding in the last few paragraphs.**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own Blizzard, World of Warcraft, or any of the NPCs used in this story. I own Sabelle, Verayn, and Ernestine.**


	3. Mental War

**Author's Note:**

**I have so many versions of this chapter.**

**...it's horrible, really, that I can't decide on just one.**

***edit*  
I'm editing. Constantly. Trying to make my story workable. **

* * *

**Chapter 3  
Mental War**

_We are the Scourge._

The voice, the Lich King's voice, _his_ voice, echoed in her head. It had been repeating that since she'd managed to get Ernestine ahead of everybody, as if it'd give them some king of magical strength. Sabelle scoffed, jerking her feet back, and successfully freeing herself from the treacherous, deadly bindings that were stirrups. She'd seen so many death knights have to get stitches in their heads and neck because their deathcharger decided to drag them along. Because of stirrups. Sometimes death knights could be so stupid.

That done and over, Sabelle wrapped the reins around the horn of the saddle, gripping the saddle with her thighs. She vaguely remembered being told to do that to prevent herself from being thrown off, and to drive her heels down - both of which she did, despite the lack of stirrups.

A small, tiny raindrop landed on her bottom lip. She crinkled her nose, huffing out a breath through her mouth, and shifted her weight to avoid slamming her side into a tree that Ernestine barely managed to miss. Sunwell, she really needed to work on becoming more agile. It would do her no favors later in life to slam into everything. Sabelle scoffed, again, and corrected herself. _Undead_ life.

"_Aelia_!"

_What_?

Sabelle refused to snap her head towards that hollowed, echoing voice, deciding that she'd prefer to take the chance to get off of Ernestine while she still could. Light's Hope Chapel was still hidden behind the plagued, twisted trees, but she could still feel the holy energy radiating from it, along with movement.

It was the movement of all the Living, whatever races they were, coming together to attempt to stand against the Scourge in the time it'd take her to reach Light's Hope Chapel. She

Hissing, she gripped the saddle tightly with her legs and threw her arms up in the air, leaning slightly to the right. Thankfully, Ernestine shifted her direction, aiming towards the tree with the low-hanging branch. It didn't look like it'd hold her at all, but still, Sabelle released her hold on the saddle and allowed herself to be snatched away.

Her hands slammed against the branch, sending a jolt of numbed pain through her hands before she pulled herself up and then -

"_Aelia! Please remember_!"

Gasping, she peeled her eyes open. Sabelle barely expected herself to be able to get up there, much less do that. It was like some acrobatic trick she'd seen humans perform while disguised as a high elf - until, of course, somebody had shouted, "Scourge!" and she'd been forced to flee.

_"Aelia, damn it! Look!"_

Who, in the name of the Lich King, was Aelia? Sabelle mentally felt herself cringe with disgust and remorse as she hoisted herself up the tree, watching Highlord Darion Mograine and his mindless followers gallop along behind him, unaware that she'd hung back. There were advantages to being somewhat agile, she'd admit.

A few scratches on her precious saronite armor later and Sabelle was sitting on a tree branch, right in the line of view of anybody who wanted to look at her. Her runeblade, Iceblood, had been caught on Ernestine's saddle. There was no way in hell she was going back to Acherus to get a runeblade, when she'd only be missing the fight. It looked like the Scourge were winning, thankfully, although she caught the brainless highlord glaring in her general direction.

Yawning, Sabelle stretched out her legs and leaned against the tree, perfectly content with the fact that she wouldn't be the one risking her life for theirs. Hissing, she corrected herself. _Undead_ life. She really should remember that.

_Why are you not fighting with the rest, Aelia? I thought you enjoyed the thrill of battle - hellfire, Eli, you jumped into it with more bloodlust than the Amani trolls._

What was that voice? It was haunting, much like her own, but melodic. Smooth, simple, warm, melodic, but haunting, too. A death knight's voice was not suppose to be warm, no matter what they could leave somebody to believe.

Another voice, the Lich King's, Sabelle realized with a start, spoke to her. Or, to the other voice in her head. _Stay away from my champion's mind, elf! _

With the two minds warring together, Sabelle didn't notice the figure that'd been watching her until she was dragged off the branch and into a brief oblivion. This was not a good way to start off being the Lich King's champion. Not at all.

* * *

**I DON'T CARE IF IT'S SHORT. IT'S SOMETHING.**

***edit*  
IT'S A LEETLE BIT LONGARRR!**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own Blizzard, World of Warcraft, or any of the NPCs used in this story. I own Sabelle, Verayn, Ernestine, and the mysterious figure.**


	4. The Living Spirits

**Author's Note:**

**I can't write a fight scene. I'm terrible at it. TERRIBLE. So I won't. Or maybe I will? I don't know .-.**

**Thank you all for the reviews. They make me happy. So happy, in fact, that I grin at the screen like an idiot as I read them. Mwahahahahahaa x3**

* * *

**Chapter 4  
The Living Spirits**

Venne watched as Aelia was dragged away by a cloaked figure, nothing more than a petty human commoner, and felt like running towards Aelia - but she couldn't. Her spirit had been summoned, oddly enough, and now she floated beside a very agitated Falion.

"She's grown weak," he commented dully, and continued on, "I remember when she could pummel me for hours without breaking a sweat."

If she could've, Venne would've snorted in amusement. It was very unladylike to pummel somebody's future husband, but Aelia had done it to Falion anyways. "A force to be reckoned with," Venne remembered overhearing Aelia's father say. Yes, because pairing a paladin with an assassin-princess was a force to be reckoned with.

Secretly, Venne was glad Aelia had died young. There'd been a nice funeral, too, with white and blue roses. Silver, gold, blue, white... every color Aelia had loved, her father had thrown everything into the funeral that Aelia had loved. She'd been surprised, for Aelia's father had never batted an eyelash at her twice.

Aelia's father. Venne hated him, she truly did, even if he was the prince of Quel'thalas.

"Do you think Aelia still loves me?"

Venne tilted her head towards Falion, glaring. "No," she hissed, "because she never loved you in the first place."

Falion stared at Venne dumbly, as if she'd just told the most unbelievable lie he'd ever heard - and then drizzled it with a glass of Eversong mead. Sighing, Venne continued on.

"You never looked at her eyes, or her expressions, or actually asked her how she felt, did you? Men. I swear, if I was alive..." Venne shook her head. "If I was alive, I'd probably end up strangling you, whether you're noble or not."

"I thought we were friends!" came Falion's shrill cry.

"_Were_, you stupid paladin," she stated flatly. "Past-tense, which means _it happened in the past_."

"But-"

"Shut up already. You're giving me a headache." That was a petty excuse, but she'd never admit it.

"We're spirits. You can't possibly have a headache."

"Shut. Up. Falion."

* * *

**I sort of split chapter 4 in half, so it's REAALLLYYYY short. OH WELL. You peoples have probably seen shorter, no?**

**I'LL BE UPDATING IN A FEW DAYS.**

***happydays***

* * *

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN BLIZZARD OR ANY OF IT. Except Sabelle and friends/enemies/OC's. **


	5. Death Meets Frustration

**Author's Note:**

**Chapter five.  
Wow.**

**I'm just going to savor this moment.**

* * *

**Chapter 5  
Death Meets Frustration**

Sabelle's head hurt.

The Lich King, a female voice, another female voice, and a male voice were fighting - in her head. What made matters worse was that she could barely see anything. It was all an annoying, big colorful blob that was colored with red, orange, and a nasty brown that molded together to look like fire. Nasty, nasty fire that made Sabelle want to look away.

Along with that, she wanted to scream.

_Get out of my champion's head! _the Lich King commanded.

_No! _the first female voice screeched.

_She's my daughter! You don't have any right to command me to get out of my daughter's head!_ the second female voice shrieked.

Sabelle squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore how her head pounded with each little sound.

_You forget, ladies, that she was my fiancé. Mine, _the male voice said.

_Did you just call the Lich King a lady? _the first female voice purred. _Ooh. This just got serious._

_Shut up, Venne, and go the fuck away, _the male voice growled.

Hissing, Sabelle dug the heels of her boots into the ground, flexing her fingers. She couldn't feel her fingers. Normally, she was aware of every part of her body and how it worked, but now... she couldn't feel anything, maybe just enough to be able to move.

"What is the problem, scum?"

"Shut. Up," Sabelle hissed, peeling her lips away from her teeth as she said it. She really had half a mind to kick him where it hurt.

She felt a questioning gaze eye her, then, "You are in no position to command me, scum."

"I'm not scum," Sabelle hissed, "because I know for a fact that I have a higher position in the Scourge than you could ever dream of."

"But you are Scourge."

"But you are Living," she countered, leaning back slightly. The human seemed to relax as she did so and Sabelle brought up her foot in a swift, painful move that had him crumpled over, yowling.

She really, really wished she had her runeblade with her. She could kill him easily, raise him as a ghoul, and be done with it all. Easy as that. Well, maybe not so easy... her head hurt more than anything she'd ever felt, like it was slowly being crushed by a poisoned spike or something. Damn world.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Sabelle slowly came to the realization that the voices had stopped yelling and screaming and ranting and raging. She would've cried if she was alive, but she wasn't, just undead and annoyed by the fact that there was a crumpled human at her feet. Maybe she could manage to talk him to death? Sabelle had a lot she needed to say...

Cursing, Sabelle drove the heel of her plate boot into the ground, wondering how she'd kill him. There was a number of ways to kill him, but the easiest would be with her runeblade. Once again, Sabelle cursed and threw a kick towards the human's ribs. It did not help to have him there, about to leap up and challenge her to battle, when she was weaponless.

_Gosh, 'Lia, what's with your sudden lack of imagination? _the first female voice cried.

"Shut up!" Sabelle screamed, frustrated at how the voices wouldn't leave her alone. At this rate, she'd end up just killing somebody for the fun of it. That is, if death knights could even _have_ any fun.

A flash of movement drew her attention up, towards the trees and the branches. Sabelle cursed - again - and decided her best option would to dump her saronite armor on the ground and hope one of the armor forger's had enough saronite left to make her a new set of armor. But if that something managed to get her, she'd be dead. Twice. And armorless.

Another option was to look to the shadows for protection, and use them to her ability. But what if the something was a rogue, she'd probably be in trouble. Rogues found rogues, and even though she wasn't a rogue, that something could be able to sense her if something was a rogue. Sabelle cursed, deciding she'd be best off leaving the heaviest parts of her saronite armor and making a mad dash for it.

The heaviest parts of her saronite armor were the shoulderpads, bracers, the hood, and her belt... Sabelle cursed, again. She couldn't leave her belt, out of all things, because that was where her runes were located. How was she supposed to defend herself if she didn't have her runes? How was she supposed to be a death knight with no runes and no runeblade?

Sabelle really wanted to scream.

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**YESS! CHAPTER FIIIIVEEE!**

**800-ish words. Yaaay.**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything WoW-ish. I just own Sabelle, Verayn, the something, the human, Venne, Falion, mystery woman #2, and Ernestine. **


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